


Dark Nights, Broken Places, and Home

by wicked_writings



Category: Captain America (2011), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms, Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baby, Bonding through the sharing of traumatic childhoods, Breastfeeding, F/M, Hints of prostitution, Hints of underage sex but nothing directly tackled, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mama!Loki, Missing Persons, Mpreg, Odin being a crappy dad, Runaway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked_writings/pseuds/wicked_writings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it's coincidence, maybe it's not - but most likely it's just meant to happen. Sometimes, a dirty, dank alley is the best place to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Nights, Broken Places, and Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first completed fic in this fandom, please be gentle! :)  
> Unfortunately, I don't own the characters, Marvel does. Do you think I'd be writing stories about them when I could be playing with them instead?!

_Boston, early September, 2011_  
  
Steve sees the dark-haired boy for the first time at Donegren’s Restaurant in the city. Steve’s leaving with a couple of friends after dinner; the boy is rummaging through the bins in the alley. He wants to say something, offer a hand, but he’s swept away with his friends before he can speak. When he looks back, the boy is gone.  
  
The next time Steve sees him, it’s been 2 months, and this time he’s in the alley not far from Steve’s apartment. He looks thinner, pale and tired, bundled in someone’s discarded overcoat. One arm is tucked inside the jacket, but Steve doesn’t say anything as he presses a $10 note into his hand.  
  
*  
  
The weather is turning, winter is coming, and Steve feels it in the chill in the air as he rises each morning. He shivers into the upturned collar of his jacket as he hurries to work, hands buried deep inside his pockets. The boy is there again, tucked down the alley, hunched against the wall. He looks miserable, face upset and dirty. Steve buys a bagel and a hot chocolate from his local coffee shop, and smiles softly as he lays it on the ground before the boy’s feet.  
  
*  
  
It becomes a ritual; another habit, like taking a shower and reading the newspaper. He leaves the house, waves to his neighbour, checks the sky for clouds and buys the young boy food at the coffee shop. They don’t talk, but Steve gets a smile in return now, just an upturn at the corner of his mouth, but it’s something. Steve can’t really afford the extra food, but he makes sure he has one less coffee a day now, so it’s not too bad. And he really can’t let the poor kid starve.  
  
*  
  
The weather report looks bad. There’s snow forecast, and it’s going to be cold, well below freezing. It’s the first big snowstorm of the season, and Steve knows that soon the streets will be piled with humps of dirty snow. Snow is never pretty in the city, but it was beautiful in the countryside he grew up in.  
  
It’s not until he’s nearing home at the end of the day that he realises, and his brain helpfully connects the dots and reminds him with a guilty pang that the homeless boy will be left out in the weather to face the cold. Steve fights the feeling by hoping that he’s gone to a shelter, but he knows they get really full at times like these and sometimes, they just can’t take any more. So he makes himself look down the alley as he passes, and he’s there, still bundled in the overcoat, and looking more tired than ever.  
  
Steve’s feet take him down the alley before he even thinks about it, but what is there to decide anyway? He crouches down in front of the boy, who looks up with a hint of surprise in his eyes, not accustomed to seeing Steve at this time of the day.  
  
“Are you going to a shelter?” Steve asks softly, because he’d better make sure first.  
  
Big dark eyes look downcast, and the boy shakes his head. “Too crowded,” he practically whispers, and it’s the first time Steve’s heard him speak.  
  
“You can’t stay out here, it’s going be freezing.” Steve extends a hand. “You’re welcome to stay at my place. Please.” It’s not very big, but hey, there’s always room for one more at the inn.  
  
He gets a hopeful look in return, but it’s suddenly gone from the boy’s face, like someone’s switched off the light. “I shouldn’t.”  
  
“Why not? You want to stay out here to freeze to death?” Steve’s crouching again. He doesn’t want this poor kid to be out here all alone. There’s a part of him that remembers that once upon a time, he was the same kid - lost, skinny and alone.  
  
The boy shakes his head, filthy black hair falling in his eyes. “I can’t,” he mumbles desperately, and right then Steve notices that his arms are tucked into his overcoat again. Something moves under the fabric, and Steve is confused.  
  
“What have you got?” he asks softly, trying hard not to scare him off.  
  
“Nothing!” The cry is weak but harsh, dark eyes flashing a warning. Steve ignores it.  
  
“Please. Let me look.” He hopes, he prays it isn’t what he thinks it is.  
  
The boy is shaking his head again, teeth digging into chapped lips as he rocks from side to side. “I can’t, I can’t I can’t I can’t…” Tears press against his eyes and slide down his cheeks, gathering dirt and dust and maybe a bit of blood to congeal on his jawline.  
  
Steve lays out a hand, just one, onto the boy’s shoulder, keeping him still. The other grasps the fabric, pulling it aside gently, but before he can get far there’s a small cry, not from the boy though, from what he’s holding in his arms. It’s weak and almost pained, trailing off only to start again, pitiful and tiny.  
  
It’s a baby, no more than a few weeks old, and Steve knows as soon as he sees the little face that there’s something wrong. He looks up at the boy, no more than a child himself, and suddenly everything else in Steve’s life grinds to a halt, just throws on the brakes and takes itself out back for a holiday.  
  
“I don’t know what’s wrong…” The boy is sobbing now, his thin, ribby chest trying desperately to take in air. “She won’t stop crying, she won’t eat, I can’t get her warm enough…”  
  
It’s all enough to shatter Steve’s heart into a million tiny pieces, and he can’t believe how stupid he’s been, to not even notice. He wants to yell at the world, for letting this happen, but Steve knows now from life experience that the world just takes what it can, chews it up, and spits it back out like it’s all rancid meat.  
  
“She needs a doctor,” he says gently, and he hopes it’s not too late.  
  
“No no no, no they’ll take her away, please I can’t let that happen!” The boy is terrified now, clutching the baby to his chest like she’s the last thing he has. And she probably is. He’s shivering from the cold and Steve’s morning bagel is probably all he gets for food, and he’s just been giving everything to this tiny baby that doesn’t deserve what life’s thrown at her so far.  
  
The thing is, Steve knows he’s right. The boy can’t be more than 18, not even an adult, and he’s homeless and probably ill, and the state would take the baby away before they even found out his name. It’s horribly unfair, and Steve can’t be that person to take it all away.  
  
“Then come with me. At least my place is warm and there’s food.”  
  
This time, the boy nods, eyes towards the ground. Steve helps him up, startled both by how tall he is and how thin he is, like he can feel every bone in his body. He’s shaking slightly, whether it be from the cold or the lack of food, Steve isn’t sure. The boy’s only possessions are in a tatty old school bag, and Steve suppresses a shudder when he guesses that the bag once held text books and packed lunches, back when this kid wasn’t homeless and dirty and skinny like he is now.  
  
The walk isn’t far, and Steve helps him every step, an arm around his shoulders. They don’t talk, but Steve watches the weather, cautious of the heavy, rolling clouds. The temperature is dropping fast, and Steve can feel it deep in his bones, though perhaps it’s not just because it’s cold.  
  
By the time they make it inside his apartment, the boy is so exhausted he can barely walk, and the baby isn’t crying any more. He lets the boy sit on the sofa, but not before tugging off the dirty, oversize coat that has been his only shelter for the past few weeks. Underneath, he’s all in black, and it’s filthy and smelly. The baby is wrapped in a small, pink blanket, and Steve’s pretty sure she’s too small, even for a newborn.  
  
He takes her gently, and lays her on the couch next to her mother. He unwraps the blanket and she starts to cry again, upset at having her tiny world disturbed. A dirty hand slips down to soothe over her head, and she quiets a little, hiccupping.  
  
“When did she last feed?” Steve asks. He doesn’t know much about babies, but this one looks like she’s short a few meals.  
  
“Last night,” the boy whispers in reply.  
  
Her skin is cool to touch, more bluish than pink, and Steve hopes to God it’s because of the cold, not because she’s not getting enough oxygen. She’s got a little cloth nappy on, and that and the blanket are the only things this baby has in this world. Steve wraps the blanket around her again, and gives her back.  
  
“What’s your name?” he asks.  
  
The boy looks up at him. “Luke,” he says after a moment. It’s fake, and they both know it, but Steve knows he can’t push it.  
  
“Well, Luke, how about you have a bath with her. Warm yourselves up. We’ll see how she is afterwards.” He doesn’t mention the smell, but he probably doesn’t need to. Luke is shivering too, even in the warmth of the apartment, and the bath will help.  
  
Luke nods, pulling the baby closer to his chest, and Steve tells him to wait there while he runs the bath. He doesn’t use the bath often, preferring the shower when he’s rushing in the morning, but today it’s especially useful and he know he had bath gel for a reason. He lays out a couple of towels while he waits, and rummages around in the bag of spare clothes he was going to donate to charity. Luke is much thinner, but Steve finds a pair of track pants with a drawstring and a t-shirt with a picture of Captain America on the front. He tosses them next to the sink, and ushers Luke into the bathroom. He leaves him to it, closing the door quietly behind him.  
  
Steve goes through the pockets of the overcoat, finds nothing, and chucks it in the bin before reaching for the phone.  
  
*  
  
Luke is out in an hour, wet hair dripping onto his clean shirt. He looks better already, less drawn, though maybe that’s because the dirt on his face has been washed away. The girl is wrapped in a towel, sleeping quietly, and Steve is pleased to see her skin colour has improved.  
  
“She’s stopped crying,” Luke says quietly, and lays her gently between two cushions on the floor, where she can’t roll off and hurt herself. Steve has nothing for a baby, and tonight they’ll have to make do, but he’ll think of something.  
  
He’s made soup and toast, and makes Luke eat. He wolfs down the toast and nearly burns his throat on the soup, but Steve is just pleased to see he has an appetite. He looks skinnier than ever in Steve’s much larger clothes, but at least he’s clean and warm. Steve’s stacking the dishes in the sink and Luke is on the floor with the baby when there is a knock on the door.  
  
Luke looks up, startled and fearful, and a moment later turns betrayed eyes towards Steve. “Who is it?” he asks harshly, acting like a skittish animal who’s about to bolt.  
  
Steve holds up a hand to placate him. “He’s just a friend. Don’t worry, he’s only here to help. He’s a doctor.”  
  
Luke still looks suspicious, but stays where he is, one hand protectively cradling his daughter.  
  
Steve slides the chain off the door and creaks it open to let Bruce in. Bruce is quiet and unassuming, and the first person Steve thought of when he realised they needed help. He’s brought his black leather bag with him, and offers a comforting smile to Luke when he sees him on the floor.  
  
“It’s ok, I’m not here to hurt you,” he says, and Luke doesn’t relax completely but he does let Bruce kneel on the floor.  
  
“How old is she?” he asks first.  
  
This time, there’s no hesitation when he speaks. “19 days old.”  
  
Bruce just nods, and unfolds the towel. She wakes and starts to grizzle, hands clenched in tiny fists and waving in the air. Bruce examines her gently, checking her pulse and breathing and everything else he can think of.  
  
He sits back on his haunches and takes off his glasses. “Well, she’s too small for her age, and she needs food. But I don’t think there’s anything else going on,” he says, and Steve hears the unspoken _just yet_ in his voice. Luke sighs, and his whole body seems to relax for the first time since he’s entered the apartment.  
  
“Thank you,” he whispers, and Bruce stares for a moment but acknowledges him just as quietly. “What about you?” he asks carefully, and Luke looks almost guilty.  
  
He claims he’s fine, but Steve and Bruce can both see through it, and Steve thinks _boy this kid is a terrible liar_.  
  
Bruce doesn’t ask a question, just suggests quietly with a hint of authority that they go into the bedroom. Steve promises to watch the baby and Luke leaves reluctantly, a pinched look on his face.  
  
They’re gone for nearly 15 minutes, and Steve hopes everything’s ok as he holds the baby gently in his lap. She’s awake now, and looks at him inquisitively, as if she’s asking him where her mother is. He plays with the wisps of hair on her head and lets her suck on his finger, smiling as she plays.  
  
Luke comes back out before Bruce, looking a little harried, but he brightens when he sees the baby on Steve’s lap. Steve lets him take her gently, and he holds her close as he takes a seat on the furthest couch, as if he knows Bruce wants to talk about him to Steve and just doesn’t want to hear it.  
  
“Well?” Steve asks quietly as they pretend to dry the dishes at the sink.  
  
“Well,” Bruce repeats and shrugs, wiping the same glass three times. “He could be healthier. He’s skinny, almost emaciated. Whatever he’s been eating, it’s been going out in his milk. No wonder the poor baby is hungry.”  
  
Steve voices the lingering doubt in the back of his mind. “So the baby is his.”  
  
Bruce nods. “As far as I can tell. He’s given birth not long ago, it would correspond with the age of the baby. He had no help either, from what I figure. Would have been painful. And he’s expressing milk.”  
  
Steve doesn’t want to imagine the thought of Luke out there alone and in pain, giving birth in the dark in some filthy place. He shudders and nearly breaks the plate he’s holding.  
  
“Will he be ok?”  
  
Bruce nods, his lower lip jutting out. “Sure. If he’s warm and fed. Where did you find this kid, anyway?”  
  
Steve nods his head in the direction of the alley. “He’s been there for a little while. I should have talked to him earlier.”  
  
“Don’t beat yourself up over it. He’s here now and that’s all that matters. You’re a good guy, Steve,” Bruce says, and offers him a smile.  
  
Bruce takes his bag and leaves, but not before saying goodbye to Luke and the baby, and Steve is pleased to hear Luke thank his friend. _Manners_ , he thinks. _This kid has manners. Not born a street kid, then_.  
  
Luke’s a mystery, and Steve intends to solve it.  
  
*  
  
The rest of the night passes quietly. Steve catches the tail end of the baseball game he had been planning to watch that night, and Luke sits with the baby on the other couch. A few minutes in, Steve glances over, and Luke is looking down at the baby, who’s nuzzling at a slightly swollen breast. Steve smiles, glad to see she’s finally feeding again, and gives them privacy by turning back to the screen.  
  
*  
  
Steve’s apartment isn’t the biggest in town, but he does have a small second bedroom, and there’s still a single bed in it left over from the previous tenants. He clears the boxes off it and digs out sheets and a comforter, and makes it as best as he could. He finds a spare blanket and tosses it over the top, hoping it’s going to be warm enough. Anything he does though, has to be better than spending the night outside in the blinding cold.  
  
He has no bassinet or cradle of course, and in the end he pulls a drawer from a wooden bureau. He pads it with spare clothes and lines it with a blanket, and Luke lays the baby down gently into the first bed she’s ever known. He pulls it close to the bed, afraid to be away from her in this new place. She’s asleep again as Luke climbs under the covers, and Steve makes him promise to wake him if he needs anything.  
  
*  
  
Steve sleeps better than he thinks he would, and wakes in the morning to a glistening winter-tinged world. There’s snow everywhere, burying the cars that line the streets. Steve can hear the rumble of snow plows in the distance, but he knows there’s no work for him that day. There’s a text on his phone telling him as much, and he thinks about going back to sleep but then he remembers Luke.  
  
He gets out of bed faster than he ever has on such a cold morning, fearful that Luke might have gone, but though the door to the spare bedroom is closed he can hear Luke murmuring softly to a gurgling baby. Steve breathes a sigh of relief and begins breakfast, hoping Luke likes eggs.  
  
He does, of course, and he devours three poached eggs and three pieces of toast with a glass of orange juice before conceding defeat. The baby lies in her makeshift cradle, fists bunching in the blanket, and Luke keeps a careful eye on her from where he sits.  
  
They spend a lazy hour on the couch watching TV, mostly the news, all reports of how the snow has crippled the transport network. Steve’s not rueing a day off work though, and doesn’t complain. It’s winter, it happens. At 9.30am he leaves the remote with Luke and tells him not to open the door to anyone but him, because there’s a creepy guy three doors down that Steve can’t trust as far as he could throw him.  
  
He tugs on his wool coat but leaves his blond head bare, and heads downstairs to the shop. He needs milk, and the baby needs diapers, because Steve is **not** cleaning up that sort of mess. He buys milk and bread, newborn diapers and baby wipes, as well as a couple of things for Luke – hairbrush, toothbrush. It’s all horribly overpriced of course, but the supermarket is three blocks away, which, in the current weather, might as well be three states. On the way home he passes Phil’s store, and it takes a while for his feet to catch up his brain and stop, so he has to reverse a bit. He can’t believe Phil is open on such a rotten day, but clearly he’s hoping for a bit of business. Steve is happy to give it to him.  
  
Phil runs a second-hand store, the type that buys and sells anything under the sun. Steve’s stopped in here a few times, even bought a few things for his apartment, but mostly he has a chat with Phil and says hello to his wife, Rosanna, who works behind the counter. Today he leaves the groceries with her as he shops, and luck is on his side that day, because there is an old but perfectly useable bassinet with a mattress, and a pile of baby clothes that Rosanna insists would fit a newborn. She presses a bundle of blankets into his hands and finds him a baby bath too, and it’s quite a pile at the counter. Phil offers his eldest son to help him drag it all to his apartment, and Steve gratefully accepts. It’s not until they are halfway back that it hits Steve – he has a baby in the house, and by the looks of it, she’ll be staying for a while.  
  
Luke is gaping when they arrive back at the apartment, arms full of baby gear, and stammers a “thank you” to Steve who has suddenly turned red. They try out the bassinet after Luke makes it up with sheets and blankets, and it gains baby’s seal of approval as she sleeps away happily. Luke sorts out the baby clothes on the floor and Steve tries to make the baby bath fit in the sink.  
  
Lunch is leftover soup, and the baby feeds again. Luke looks better now, less like he’s about to sway on his feet and more pink, more healthy. His cheeks are hollow and there are still dark circles under his eyes, but Steve knows there are some things that take more than a night of sleep and some food to fix. He doesn’t ask where Luke has come from, why he’s out on the street, and Luke doesn’t offer.  
  
*  
  
Come 4.15pm and Luke and the baby are both sleeping like the dead. Steve quietly closes the door to their room and tiptoes to the kitchen for a coffee. He pulls out his aging laptop and sets it up at the kitchen table, angling for the little bit of sun that’s still peeking through the clouds every now and again.  
  
He’s a bit rusty when it comes to computers, not choosing to trust them entirely, but he knows enough to run a simple Google search. He starts with ‘Luke + runaway + Boston’ but that doesn’t get him anywhere useful, unless he felt like reading a review for _Runaway Jury_. He thinks for a moment, and backs it all up, and just Google’s ‘missing persons’ this time. The first site is a list of missing persons in the state, and Steve scrolls through them but doesn’t find anyone that looks even remotely like Luke. He expands his search and tries surrounding states, but he has no luck there either. Whoever this kid is, either no-one is looking for him, or he’s come a very long way from home.  
  
*  
  
Steve doesn’t tell Luke about the internet searches, and decides not to pry either. The last thing he wants to do is scare him away, back out in the dark and the cold, especially not when both Luke and the baby have improved enormously. Steve can’t see how he can bring himself to take anything for granted after this, not when he’s seen how a baby was dying for just warmth and food.  
  
He washes the clothes that Luke had with him in his backpack, and tries to not look suspicious when he checks the labels as he puts them in the wash basket. He hits pay dirt though, and hopes it doesn’t show on his face. There’s an old Ralph Lauren polo shirt, dark green, and in lopsided writing on the label is a hastily scrawled name – Loki. Close enough to ‘Luke’ of course, but just different enough for Steve to have never connected the dots if a Loki had popped up in his search.  
  
He gets the washing going in the basement, and trudges back upstairs to the apartment and his laptop. He searches again in the missing persons index, but gets no hits for ‘Loki’ in Massachusetts. Or the surrounding states. This time he goes nationwide, and gets a hit almost immediately, and there’s no doubt that the young, pale boy with long black hair and emerald green eyes is the same as the one laying on his couch.  
  
There’s no mention of a baby, or of pregnancy, just a short list of details that clearly hasn’t been updated in a while. He’s from New Mexico, of all places, and Steve wonders how the hell he made it to Boston, and why. At the bottom is a short but blunt statement – ‘Missing since June, 2011, presumed dead’.  
  
There’s no precise date of disappearance, which is intriguing, because all of the other profiles that Steve has looked at so far have had one. It’s like no-one’s actually sure when he went missing, and decided to just go for the entire month instead.  
  
The information on him is stark and to the point.  
  
• Loki Odinsson  
• Norwegian descent  
• Birthdate: 6/4/93  
• Black hair  
• Green eyes  
• 5’11” tall  
• 150 pounds  
  
There’s no plea for his return, no listing of birth marks or identifying features, anything to help anyone identify a missing person. It’s sad, really, and Steve swallows the lump in his throat.  
  
He saves the page and goes back to Google, and this time searches for ‘Loki Odinsson’. There’s little information, save for a blog post from several months ago. It’s cutting and somewhat light-hearted, but it’s the only result that has anything to do with his disappearance.  
  
 _“So Odin Allfather went and lost his kid. Thankfully it’s not the kid that he actually likes, the one we all know is gonna take over the ‘family business’. Can you imagine how distressing that would be for the guy? He’s just ashamed enough of the younger kid to make them pull the news stories of him running away. Hell, it would be disastrous if someone read an article, and found the kid and made him go back, right??? What a douchebag.”_  
  
Steve’s not sure what a ‘douchebag’ is, and suspects he’s too old to understand, but he gets the context fairly well. He tries not to believe that a father could be so callous as to not want to look for his son, but Steve spends the next half an hour trawling the internet and there’s nothing, no desperate plea for sightings or for anyone to look out for him. He finds out that Odin Allfather has a powerful company, Asguard Securities, and he’s worth millions, and his firstborn, Thor, is slated to take over the company in just a few years. He’s never met the guy, and already he hates him.  
  
Steve saves what he can and logs off, hoping nothing shows on his face as he slides onto the couch next to Luke. He’s already decided that he’s not going to say anything until Luke – _Loki_ – does, because the vibe he gets from all this is that the kid isn’t coming from a particularly good place at all. Steve knows what it’s like to have things that prick at you from the inside, things you can’t change and you can’t control.  
  
So to get his mind off everything, he starts talking. “I never asked… does she have a name?”  
  
Beside him, Luke shakes his head. “I just… I couldn’t think of anything.”  
  
Steve nods slowly. “That’s ok. Lots of people find it hard to come up with baby names.”  
  
Luke smile sadly. “She does need a name though.”  
  
“You’ll think of something.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
*  
  
The next few days pass quietly. Steve goes back to work, leaving Luke at home with the baby they still haven’t named, and he phones during his breaks to make sure they’re ok but Luke is always smiling down the phone and that way Steve knows everything’s alright.  
  
He takes on an extra shift, but doesn’t tell Luke, lets him think he always worked Thursday nights. It means extra food and extra things for the baby, who’s going through diapers like nobody’s business. Steve finds a changing table at a garage sale, and together he and Luke maneuver everything around in the spare room until it all fits.  
  
Bruce comes back to see how they are doing, and is startled at the difference, how the baby is rosy pink and happy now and Luke has lost the worried look that constantly creased his forehead. He asks Steve in private if he’s found out who Luke is, but Steve lies and tells him he hasn’t, and for some reason he doesn’t feel bad about this like he thought he would.  
  
Things fall into a routine, like how Steve comes home and Luke’s cooked dinner, with baby sleeping in the bassinet. They think of a few names, but nothing seems to fit, although they do make it a whole day calling her Alice before deciding it’s not quite right.  
  
One day, with a shock, Steve finds himself thinking about how good this feels – to have another person around, and a baby of all things, because he’s always loved kids and Luke lets him hold the baby whenever he wants. He doesn’t come home to a cold, empty apartment anymore, and even though it’s the depths of winter the place is bright and cheerful, which can only be the presence of Luke and the baby because he’s changed nothing else.  
  
*  
  
They decide on Helena, Hel for short, and even the baby seems to agree, gurgling happily and clutching Luke’s finger in a tight fist. She’s growing fast, and Steve takes her old clothes back to the second-hand store, where Rosanna promptly exchanges them for the next size up. She tells Steve she has to meet this baby, and the next time he goes he takes Luke and Hel with him. Rosanna spends at least 20 minutes cooing over her, and Luke is as proud as Steve’s ever seen him. They go home with a proper cot that Phil has been saving for them.  
  
*  
  
Luke becomes Loki one day, when they are sitting talking quietly on the couch, trying not to wake Hel.  
  
Steve is telling him about his childhood, how he was happy until the day he found out his parents had died, and after that it was a traumatic cluster of foster homes and orphanages until he was old enough to leave the system on his own. Luke sits and listens with an undeniably sad look on his face, and halfway through Steve realises that Luke is clutching at his hand. He shifts until their fingers are entwined, and the contact is comforting. He realises he hasn’t been this close to anyone in a long time, and it makes something in the bottom of his stomach wriggle.  
  
After Steve is done it’s Luke’s turn, and the first thing he does is tell Steve that his name is really Loki. Steve doesn’t tell him he already knows, just squeezes his hand and is gratified to feel a squeeze back. He sits in understanding silence as Loki tells him about his home and family, the place where he should have belonged but never did. He tells Steve about never being good enough for his father, never fitting in at school, being clumsy and bullied, about finding out that he was adopted when he stumbled across his birth certificate in an old photo album one day. Steve listens as he tells him about a boy he meet at school, the first person to not laugh at him or call him names, his first boyfriend and his first kiss. Steve listens and hears about how Loki had just turned 18 when he ran away, 4 months pregnant and terrified.  
  
Loki’s come across the country in a succession of buses and trains, hitch-hiking in trucks in between, desperate to put as much space between him and his family as possible. He refuses to tell Steve how he made money, but Steve can guess as much, and it’s something he can’t find words for, so it goes unspoken. Loki tells him how he wanted to get to Canada, but he was too heavily pregnant to leave Boston. He tells about how he gave birth in an abandoned public toilet just outside of town, and he didn’t know what to do but Hel decided everything for him and just about came out on her own. Steve’s holding onto him by now, unwilling to let him go, and Loki clings right back, his voice shaking and unsettled. There’s not much after that, just finding the alley and being so weak he could barely move, and he tells Steve that probably the only reason he’s still alive is the food Steve gave him each morning.  
  
By the time they are finished it’s dark outside and the lights aren’t even on yet, but Steve doesn’t feel like he can move. Loki lays a head on his shoulder and they sit in silence, listening to the patter of rain on the windowpane, fingers clenched tightly together.  
  
*  
  
A couple of days later Steve asks Loki if he wants to contact his family, at least to tell them that he’s ok. Loki shakes his head violently and looks so upset Steve gives him a hug. He doesn’t need to ask, because Loki starts to speak.  
  
“Father wanted me to kill the baby, he wanted her gone, said that it wasn’t right, for me to have a baby so young. He said it looked bad, for him and the business. If I go back he’ll kill her.”  
  
If Loki wasn’t trembling so badly and his voice wasn’t shaking, Steve would have probably told him everything would be ok and his father couldn’t possibly be that merciless, but Loki feels like he’s about to shatter into a million pieces and Steve can’t help but believe.  
  
“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he whispers into Loki’s hair, a hand soothing his shoulders. “It’s ok,” he says, and presses his lips to Loki’s forehead.  
  
*  
  
Hel’s been a good baby. She’s sleeping through the night now, waking at just before 6am for her first feed of the day. Steve’s taken to rising then too, and sitting with Loki while she suckles. He’s an early riser anyway, and an extra half an hour isn’t going to kill him. Afterwards, he makes breakfast for the both of them while Loki bathes Hel, and they eat together before Steve leaves for work. Dinner’s normally ready by the time he comes home, and Loki does his best to clean up during the day whenever Hel’s sleeping and he’s not so tired all he can do is flop on the couch and watch TV.  
  
Steve tells him he doesn’t have to do all this, but Loki feels it’s the least he could do; after all, if it wasn’t for Steve, he and Hel would probably both be dead. He has no money, and Steve refuses to let him search for a job, saying he needs to be home with the baby anyway and Loki and Hel are the best things he’s ever spent money on.  
  
At night they sit and talk at the table over dinner, and Steve washes the dishes and watches Hel while Loki showers. Sometimes they play board games, sometimes it’s movies from the video store down the street or an old black and white. They huddle on the sofa together and watch with the lights off and the curtains closed, and by the time the movie is over Loki is usually sprawled over Steve, fast asleep, and after 3 viewings he still hasn’t seen the end of _Iron Man_.  
  
They both like to read and the library is just over the road, so weekends are full of books and sometimes chilly walks to the park, where Hel has fallen in love with the ducks and claps her hands together with glee as they toss bread.  
  
Before Steve knows it, it’s been 4 months, and Hel is getting bigger and bigger each day, outgrowing her clothes as fast as he can swap them at Phil’s store. Rosanna saves them a stroller, and it means Loki can take Hel for walks during the day, warmly bundled in as many blankets as Steve can find.  
  
Loki’s filled out too, and Steve can’t feel his ribs anymore. He makes Loki get a haircut when his locks finally reach the bottom of his shoulder blade. He comes back from his appointment with hair touching his shoulder, and Steve can’t help but run his fingers through it.  
  
*  
  
5 months on, and Hel is not far from her 6th month birthday. Steve thinks it’s a great excuse to bake, and spends half the day in the kitchen, making pink frosted cupcakes and a giant chocolate cake. The place is a mess when he’s finished and Loki laughs at the icing sugar in his hair, but the treats are delicious and worth it. Phil and Rosanna come up to the apartment, and so does Bruce and his girlfriend, Betty, who practically swoons when she sees Hel and spends the rest of the day making suggestive faces at Bruce, who looks terrified. Hel loves the attention, and sits up against Loki’s chest smiling at everyone, looking pretty in the brand new pink jumper suit Rosanna bought for her. There are toys and clothes and new blankets for her, and Hel clutches at the toy pony Bruce bought her and refuses to let it go.  
  
It’s all too much for her in the end, and she falls blissfully asleep on Steve’s lap, oblivious to the chatter and laughter around her. Loki leans against Steve and strokes his daughter’s face, smiling at the death grip she uses on the pony even in her sleep.  
  
Everybody stays far longer than they intended, but it’s been a pleasant and cheerful day, and Steve’s cheeks hurt from smiling. Phil and Rosanna leave with one last kiss to Hel’s sleepy cheek, and Bruce whispers something about _Loki being good for him_ in Steve’s ear before he’s whisked away by Betty.  
  
They are far too full for dinner, and too tired to clean up, so everything gets stacked in the sink for the morning and they collapse on the sofa while Hel naps in her bassinet. Steve wraps an arm around Loki and pulls him against his chest, pulling a blanket down from the back of the couch to cover them both. He kisses Loki, for the first time, during an advert for cough syrup, and they don’t pay much attention to the TV after that.  
  
*  
  
Hel’s bassinet is pulled into a corner of Steve’s bedroom, and Loki is pulled down to the bed after that, hair floppy and eyes smiling, and Steve kisses him as hard as he can. It’s messy and not really that romantic, but they’re together and that’s all that matters. Steve wrestles Loki’s clothes off and tosses them into the corner that doesn’t contain Hel.  
  
Neither have done it for a while, but it doesn’t take long to find the rhythm. Loki’s wet and open when Steve’s fingers slide down to press in gently, and he can feel slick fluid dribbling down his hand as he curls and presses inside Loki. He fumbles for a condom before he loses it completely, and Loki helps him roll it on before moving himself over Steve’s thick erection. Steve’s hands grip his hips as he lowers himself carefully, hissing as he’s breached, but after that it’s all a beautiful sensation of being full and taken, and it’s so, _so_ good that he moans and moans and forgets about everything else.  
  
Steve moves against him and inside him, and Loki rocks back against him, one hand wrapped tightly around his erection. They don’t bother to take it slow or draw it out, and Loki comes first, gushing over his fingers and crying out his pleasure into Steve’s throat. Steve lasts another few thrusts and follows, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Loki’s hips. They’re both breathing hard with heaving chests, beads of sweat staining the sheets.  
  
Steve pushes Loki onto his back and into the pillows and it’s slower this time, less rushed. Steve kisses Loki everywhere he can reach and smoothes wet, black hair from his forehead.  
  
By the time they are done, really done, Loki is exhausted, limbs trembling, and Steve pulls him into a hug that lasts for the rest of the night.  
  
*  
  
After that, Loki moves into Steve’s bedroom and they haul the single bed down to Phil’s. The smaller bedroom becomes Hel’s, though she still sleeps in their room because Loki isn’t quite ready for her to leave his sight yet. Steve paints Hel’s room a bright shade of yellow and decorates it with white clouds and blue sky at the top and delicate orange and green flowers at the bottom. She has everything she needs now, even if most of it is second-hand and hand-me-downs. Rosanna still saves baby clothes for her, and comes up to babysit whenever Steve wants to treat Loki to dinner out.  
  
*  
  
2 years later, and the apartment is up for sale. It’s bittersweet, but it’s time to move on, and they close the door for the last time with sad smiles on their faces. As they walk down the street for the final time, they pass the alley that Loki used to call home. It’s still as dank and dirty as ever, and Loki can’t believe he and Hel spent the first few weeks of her life in there. He’ll never see it again, though, and it’s not something she has to know about when she grows older.  
  
Hel’s walking now, slowly, with the occasional accident, so Steve grips her hand tightly as she toddles. Loki walks behind, a bundle in his arms. Steve glances back to check he’s ok with the baby, and as Hel laughs at a butterfly, Loki smiles and thinks, _I’m finally home_.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Ashes and Wild Roses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/650126) by [wicked_writings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked_writings/pseuds/wicked_writings)




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